Mrs Priestly's Seduction of Andrea Sachs
by Amles80
Summary: Based on The Graduate. After graduation, Andy is sort of distubed about things. Miranda lets her know she's "available". Andy starts working on Runway, then there's a certain hotel room, a certain Elaine, and things get difficult. On LJ since last year.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's notes:** This fic is based on the movie _The Graduate_, though not exactly a crossover. Miranda is still the editor-in-chief at Runway – but not that this is pretty much AU when it comes to a few details: Stephen is the twins' biological father, he and Miranda has the same name, and Stephen is Andy's dad's business partner. As for the rest, well, it's in the fic! According to comments on LJ, this should be totally readable even if you haven't seen _The Graduate_ (if you haven't, prepare to develop a crush on Anne Bancroft!), a very good movie, with some major flaws I try to fix with this story. ;)

The Sachs family was proudly celebrating their daughter Andrea's graduation. To Andy herself, it wasn't such a big deal. She liked books, she had always been a bookworm, so why shouldn't she study? But to her parents, everything should have a purpose beyond pleasure, and they had hinted more and more often that they expected something big from her in the future.

The big party was their way of showing that. It wasn't so much a gesture directed towards her, she thought, as towards all their friends. They wanted to show off their clever daughter and brag about her achievements as if they had been their own. All the guests who enjoyed the barbecue, the drinks, the snacks and the company, they didn't care about her, but they talked enthusiastically about her future, asked about her plans, and shook her hand.

Perhaps she was being unfair. But Andy was getting tired of it already.

"Andy dear", her mother called, "come and say hello to the Priestlys. You remember the Priestlys, don't you?"

Yeah, sure, Andy remembered the Priestlys. She knew almost everything about all her parents' friends, at least as much as she cared to remember, because she had been brought up to be attentive and polite. And the Priestlys were kind of hard to ignore. The husband, Stephen, was her father's colleague; a loud, over-enthusiastic man who had loved to call Andy 'my dear boy' when she was younger and refused to wear girly clothes.

Mrs. Priestly rarely took any notice of Andy when she was little. Andy on the other hand had always admired her. But she had been intimidated by her, too, because of her impressive elegance and her way of staring so coldly at people, especially at anyone who dared to contradict her.

Miranda Priestly was a fashion queen, the editor of Runway magazine. Andy had never known what to say to her except 'hello' and 'goodbye.' The couple had young twin daughters and Andy used to babysit for them sometimes when she was in high school, but it had almost always been Stephen who made the arrangements.

Now Mrs. Priestly was there in the Sachs home to congratulate Andy, together with the rest of the world, or so it seemed. The whole idea was absurd. Andy admired the way the fashion queen's white hair fell softly around her head. She shook her own head at the sudden desire she felt to touch it, to know what it felt like, and hardly listened as the woman said something to her mother.

"Oh yes, we're so proud of our Andy. Proud, proud, proud! She has always studied so hard, ever since she was little. She hasn't even taken the time to be interested in boys, as far as I know. And I would love to know!"

"Mom!" Andy hissed, and couldn't help that she blushed. It was nobody's business, if she was interested in boys or not.

"Is that so?" Mrs. Priestly said, scrutinizing Andy while sipping her drink, "and apparently, I don't think the young lady ever has taken the time to read Runway either… or any other fashion magazine…"

"No", Mrs. Sachs giggled, "I daresay she hasn't… But now that she's graduated I'm sure she'll change her mind about that. She's not a child anymore."

"Hm", Mrs. Priestly agreed, "no, definitely not…"

Andy turned around, even if it was impolite. But wasn't her mother rude, too? What gives parents the right to talk about their children's private lives and make fun of them in front of their guests? As if children never grow up.

And why should she be interested in boys or something as boring as fashion anyway? She did not have time to date, and besides, no one worthy of her attention had showed up. When all her friends were being silly over boys, Andy focused on her writing.

She didn't know how to answer people's questions; she never knew what to say. She didn't want to let anybody down, but she didn't have any plans, none whatsoever, apart from writing. Andy wanted to become a novelist, a poet, or a playwright, or all of that, but that wasn't 'real' and she had stopped talking about it long ago. Becoming something as bohemian as a writer just wasn't good enough, not in their world.

Andy decided to sneak away upstairs and hide in her old room for a while. She couldn't take it anymore; she needed the sound of silence to be able to breathe properly.

She looked at the desk where she had written her first short stories and poems when she was so young that she hadn't even learned to spell yet. That hadn't mattered at all. And her parents and older relatives had cooed over her little writings and called them 'adorable', and sure; they were proud of the prizes she won sometimes for her essays and her articles in the school paper, but the older she got, the more the concerned wrinkles in their foreheads deepened when she talked about what she wanted to be when she grew up, and they said 'Yes, darling, but what are you going to _do_?' Andy sighed. Now they had their whole house filled with people who had opinions on her future. Law, science, education, even medicine? Or 'plastics', as one old fool suggested. He was some kind of bigwig industrial designer her father knew. Never mind her major was English Literature… Or politics? Or marriage? A boyfriend at least?

Andy frowned. She had had a boyfriend once, two years ago. His name was Nate. He was cute, ambitious, kind, and he seemed to like her. But Andy only went out with him because it felt like the right thing to do. Her friends dated, they always talked about men, sex, relationships, love. So Andy decided to give it a try. And it wasn't Nate's fault; she liked him, she just didn't feel anything for him, and least of all when he tried to touch her.

They kissed, and that was all. It hadn't been disagreeable, but hardly as amazing as she vaguely had expected – was it not supposed to be amazing, according to the books and the movies and the magazines? But it wasn't, and she avoided sleeping with him for so long that he got tired of waiting and broke up with her. Andy only missed his friendship

Andy laughed mockingly at herself the way she supposed that other people would laugh at her if they knew that she was still a virgin. But that, at least, was something that she didn't think anybody was going to ask her about, not even her mother, or so she hoped.

Why did everything have to be so difficult, so hopeless? Why did she have to feel so uninspired, without any sense of direction? If only some of her short stories could get published somewhere. But it didn't happen.

Andy's gloomy musings were suddenly interrupted by Mrs. Priestly who entered the room as if she was totally in the habit of doing it every day. What on earth could she want?

"Oh! I guess this isn't the restroom, is it?"

Oh, wrong room… that explains it, Andy thought, and told Mrs. Priestly that the bathroom was down the hall.

But Mrs. Priestly ignored her explanation as if she hadn't heard. She walked into the room and scrutinized the slanting roof and the striped wallpaper just like she had scrutinized Andy before. Then she said, casually, almost bored, as if she didn't pay attention to her own words:

"How are you, Andrea?"

Later, Andy would realize that Miranda Priestly hated small talk almost more than anything else.

"I'm fine, thanks, Mrs. Priestly… The bathroom's down at the end of the hall."

Again, the older woman ignored Andy's words as she sat down on the small couch and lit a cigarette, asking if there was an ashtray in the room.

Most certainly not! Andy wanted to say, but instead she just mumbled something incoherently. Why was there a smoking woman in her bedroom? She looked so out of place there… More importantly, why did her being there make Andy so nervous? Her palms were sweaty, and her voice was slightly shaking.

Just to do something, and to avoid getting ash on her carpet, Andy moved the wastebasket closer to the older woman, who looked at the thing as if she had wanted a gold and diamond plate instead.

She exhaled, and the gray smoke lingered in front of her face. Andy wanted to open the window but she couldn't move.

"Is it a boy or a girl?"

"Is what a boy or a girl?" Andy didn't understand the question.

Miranda stopped looking at whatever it was that she had been looking at and turned her head to look straight at Andy, and for the first time, her voice sounded a little friendlier.

"Whatever is upsetting you?"

"Oh no… nothing", Andy said quickly, "I'm just sort of disturbed about things."

"In general?"

"That's right", Andy said with a nervous little laugh, knowing that Miranda must think that she sounded really stupid. But she didn't feel like telling this woman how she felt about this party and the future the party was meant to be celebrating.

"Well…" Miranda sighed, threw her cigarette in the wastebasket and stood up. "Congratulations."

"Thank you", Andy mumbled. Miranda walked out of the room without looking at her. Andy hurried to try to find the cigarette and make sure she put it out properly.

She found it. Suddenly footsteps were heard again, and Miranda swept back in with her coat over her arm.

"Oh, Andrea. Would you take me home?"

"But don't you have a driver?"

Miranda sighed impatiently at Andy's unwillingness to assist.

"I do, but as Stephen wanted to drive for himself tonight he gave Roy the night off. And yes, I already asked my husband to take me home and he would rather stay. Now, will you drive me home, Andrea?"

Andy tried to give her the keys to her new car, the one her parents had given to her as a graduation gift, but the older woman just looked at her.

How could anyone argue with a woman with such a commanding stare?

When they finally arrived to the Priestly townhouse after a drive in complete silence, something Andy was grateful for, she expected Miranda to find her way in for herself, but Miranda refused to be dropped off in such a manner and demanded that Andy follow her inside until she turned the lights on.

"But aren't the twins at home?"

"No, they're at a friend's house. And even if they had been here, they would have been asleep because it's late. Are you coming?"

Andy got out of the car and hurried to the other side of it to open the door for Miranda. She had never done that for anyone before, but with Miranda, it seemed not only appropriate, but required.

"Walk ahead of me to the porch", Miranda said, "The house is dark."

Andy stared at her for a second but did as she was told. It seemed easier that way.

The Priestlys had a large bar in the living room with a black marble counter, shiny and dark. Miranda got in behind it, fixed Andy with her incredible eyes, and said:

"What do you drink? Bourbon?"

The words had the shape of a question, but not the sound of it. That was odd. Andy tried to say no, but Miranda didn't want to be left alone. Why would Miranda want her company inside? But she seemed to be wanting just that, as odd as that seemed. Was Miranda really feeling that lonely? Andy accepted a drink and sat down to wait for Stephen to get there.

Normally, Andy didn't drink much. Not that she minded a glass of wine for dinner, but she believed that too much alcohol made people stupid, and she preferred to keep her head clear. This time, however, she accepted the heavy glass with its golden brown liquid because she found no reason to refuse.

Why does she want to drink with me? Andy asked herself, and sipped nervously at the drink. She didn't really like it, and she was unsure if she liked those sparkling blue eyes that were fixed so intensely upon her either.

Miranda put on some music, seated herself on a white chair in front of the counter, and told Andy that she was going to ask her a question.

"What do you think of me?"

She sounded like a professor asking a question in the lecture hall, but her eyes had a peculiar fire in them.

Andy tried not to gulp.

"What do you mean?"

"You've known me nearly all your life." Miranda sounded like she hated to state the obvious. "You must have formed some opinion."

"Well, I always thought you were a… very nice person."

Andy wondered if that was the right thing to say. Miranda didn't seem to think so.

"Did you know that I'm a workaholic?" she asked. "Did you know that?"

Of course Andy knew that. Everybody knew. Miranda Priestly was a perfectionist, dedicated to her work with body and soul, and people called her 'The Dragon Lady', amongst many other things.

But Andy didn't feel comfortable discussing that with her, and she tried to excuse herself. After all, there was a party on her behalf going on in her home.

"Sit down, Andrea."

"I'm sure Mr. Priestly will be here any minute now…"

"No." Miranda cut her off. "My husband should be gone for several hours."

Miranda was sitting there with her back against the counter. She was silent, and yet she looked like she _wanted_ something and that Andy should know what it was.

What does a woman mean when she looks at you like that? Andy looked right back at her, took her in like never before, not quite like that, and then suddenly she couldn't look at her anymore. She blushed slightly and to her own embarrassment she found herself thinking that if this had been a scene in a movie it would have been when the characters starts having hot sex on the floor – and now why the hell was she thinking something like that? What did she know about having hot sex on the floor, or anywhere at all for that matter . Why would she get it into her head that Miranda was having those kind of intentions towards her? What exactly were her intentions anyway?

She blurted out, "Oh, no. You didn't think… that I'd do something like that?"

"Like what?" For the first time, Miranda seemed to be a little amused, but to Andy it suddenly all seemed to make sense.

The woman was a workaholic. The rumour had it that she was very… cold, and that her personal life was as unsuccessful as she was successful in the business world… And there they were, drinking, alone, with music on, for no real reason. And when she said she expected Stephen to stay out for hours she had made it sound like that was the norm, and perhaps this was Miranda Priestly's way of dealing with her loneliness?

"Mrs. Priestly, you're trying to seduce me!"

The white-haired woman laughed. Andy thought that maybe she was wrong. Yes, probably.

Andy bowed her head.

"Please forgive me for what I just said."

Andy couldn't bring herself to look at the older woman and her smirk.

"It's all right."

"It's not all right, it's…"

"Sit down", Miranda ordered, but Andy didn't. She began pacing around the room, trying to think of something to say. She was sweating. What had she said? And why?

"Please forgive me for what I just said. I'm just mixed up. I don't think of you that way."

"Forget it", Miranda said as she moved closer to Andy who moved backwards until her knees met a chair that she then sank into. "Forget about it and finish your drink."

Andy took one more sip of her drink. A small one. She was driving, had Miranda forgotten about that?

"Elaine's your age", the older woman said, "do you want to see a picture of her?"

"Elaine?" For a moment she couldn't remember who that was. "Oh, that's right… you have another daughter."

"Yes, from my first marriage. She grew up with her father. You have met her, haven't you?"

Andy tried to remember as she nodded insecurely. There was that girl she played with one summer, several years ago, when the twins were very small and Andy hadn't begun babysitting yet.

"She sent me a picture last Christmas", Miranda said, "Would you like to see it?"

"Um", Andy said, "yes, very much."

Finally, she thought, the woman is behaving almost like a normal person.

She followed the other woman upstairs and Miranda took the picture out of a drawer and showed it to her. Andy looked politely at the young woman and found it a little odd that Miranda didn't have it framed.

"She's, um, an attractive girl. I don't remember her having brown eyes. I thought she was blue-eyed like you."

"Andrea… Will you come over here a minute."

Again, it was not a question.

Andrea walked over to the woman at the other side of the bed and looked at it a little nervously. Did Miranda make love to her husband in that bed? Or was that exactly what she was _not_ doing?

Andy blushed. She didn't want to know, she didn't want to think like that – she couldn't understand what was wrong with her all of a sudden.

"Unzip my dress", Miranda said and turned around. "I'm going to bed."

"Okay. Um, good night!" Andy turned around too and tried to leave, but the sound of Miranda's voice froze her step.

"Unzip my dress."

Something told Andy that she had to do it, or she would quite possibly meet her death. And even if she did it, she would die. What ever she did, she was doomed. She was going to touch this woman even if it was the last thing she was ever going to do.

"You're not still thinking that I'm trying to seduce you? Come on, it's hard for me to reach."

I'm exaggerating, she told herself. Miranda just needs help because she's alone here. She has assistants, normally, and her husband or children at home…

She took a step forward and as she took hold of the zipper, she nudged Miranda's skin at the back of her neck, just below her hair. She tried not to touch her as she pulled the zipper down, careful not to cause any damage to the designer dress, and exposed Miranda's pale, smooth skin.

Then she turned away again as soon as she could.

"What are you so afraid of?"

This time it was a question.

"Um, nothing…"

"Then why do you keep running away?"

The mere sound of the voice itself seemed to pull Andy over. She turned back to face the other woman again, and she couldn't help but to gasp a little.

Miranda was taking off her dress. She was standing there in lingerie that covered her like a second skin, and it was impossible not to look at the beautifully shaped breasts, because they seemed to be made to be looked at.

Oh, so beautiful. Why had she never known before how beautiful Miranda Priestly was? Well, of course she had known, but not really… _known_.

"You're going to bed", Andy said, "I don't think I should be up here."

"Haven't you seen anybody in a slip before?"

Andy gulped. What did those blue eyes want with her?

"Of course I have, but, if your husband comes home he might get the wrong idea."

"Andrea, I'm a woman twice as old as you are." Miranda moved closer. "Don't you think he trusts us together?"

"Of course, but… please, Mrs. Priestly…"

"Do you want me to seduce you? Is that what you're trying to tell me?"

What if I say yes? Andy thought, and there was a flood of wetness between her legs.

"Um, I'm going home now…"

But Andy didn't have time to go before Miranda walked right past her, closed the door and placed herself in front of it.

"Oh god, let me out," Andy whispered.

"Don't be nervous."

Miranda paused, and said:

"Andrea, I want you to know that I'm available to you."

Andy gasped.

"Mrs. Priestly, what do you mean by that?"

"Oh, please", the white-haired woman sighed impatiently, "call me Miranda, 'Mrs. Priestly' is so dull."

"Okay?"

"Yes. But that's irrelevant. You don't have a boyfriend, do you? You're not seeing anyone?"

Andy shook her head slowly. This conversation was beyond anything she ever could have imagined.

Still placed between Andy and the door – as if Andy would have the strength to make a move anyway, held capture as she was by Miranda's intense eyes – Miranda kept on talking.

"Tell me, did you have a girlfriend at college? No, I suspected as much. Your mother seems to think that you don't have time to be interested in dating. I think that you simply aren't interested in _men_, am I right?"

I'm not? Andy thought to herself, how can she know? It's true that she's the most attractive person I've ever met, but does that mean…

She looked at Miranda's face for answers. She looked, quickly, at the body between her and the door, and she saw a smirk on Miranda's face when she looked at it again.

"I, um… why…" she stuttered, and with one part of her mind, she wanted to shout 'yes, please. Do with me whatever you want!', but the other part of her was too confused, too scared, and totally at loss for what to do. Surely Miranda was just mocking her because she couldn't help but notice how much Andy feared and admired her?

How much Andy wanted her?

But that thought seemed too outrageous, too much to handle, and she walked up to the door and pushed Miranda aside. She could do this, because Miranda did not try to resist, she just let it happen, and Andy ran down the stairs and out to her waiting car.

"Andy, dear", said Mrs. Sachs, "listen to this. How would you like to work for Miranda Priestly over the summer?"

Andy lowered the newspaper with which she had been covering her face, and showed her mother the dark rings under her eyes.

"For Heaven's sake, child, did you stay up all night again? Just because it's summer doesn't mean that you should turn night into day. You're not a little kid anymore."

Andy took a mouthful of coffee.

"What was that about, uh, Miranda Priestly?"

"Oh, yes. Stephen called last night. I would have let you take the call if I had known you were awake. He said that Miranda is in need of a second assistant, and he said that he had suggested you, totally out of the blue, and she had said 'okay, call Andrea Sachs for me.' I think it's just great, don't you? You get to work at a magazine, and you need work experience…"

"But…" Andy felt lost for words. "But _Runway_ is a fashion magazine, mom. I don't even read it."

"I know that it's not really your thing, but it's a magazine at least. It could be the first step towards a real job as a journalist…"

"Who says", Andy interrupted, "that I want to be a journalist?"

"Now what?" Her father entered the kitchen just in time to hear her comment. "What did I miss? I thought that you wanted to be a writer."

"Yes – I want to write novels, you know that! I guess I could write for a magazine, like book reviews and things like that, but being a journalist is just not… and to write about _fashion_, seriously, mom?"

"But I thought you'd be happy." Andy's mother sounded disappointed. "And as far as I understand, you wouldn't really get to do much writing as Miranda's assistant anyway. She wouldn't expect you to know a lot, she just needs an assistant. And from what I've heard she's very picky, too, so you should consider it an honour…"

"Great," Andy sighed. "All right, then. I… I'm not thrilled, but I guess I'll do it…"

"Yes, you should do it", her father said, "it's okay for you to drift around for a while and enjoy your summer, but you need to start thinking about your future. What else were those years in college for? Miranda's magazine could be a first step."

"Yeah, that's what mom said…"

What was the woman thinking, first propositioning her like that, and then offering her a job? Andy was confused, but at the same time curious. Every time she thought about Miranda Priestly she blushed and then she'd think that she never wanted to have to face her again. But at the same time she did want to see her again and she would not run away this time.

Yes, it was confusing. She didn't dare to believe anything other than that the older woman had made fun of her. But why would she do that? Miranda Priestly didn't strike her as the joking sort… And yet she had seemed amused by Andy's confusion and awkwardness, and that look in her eyes seemed to imply that she meant serious business.

And as if that wasn't enough, Andy had felt a part of her wanting to touch the older woman, to find out what it felt like to be kissed by her, and she felt a hot throbbing between her legs when she drove home that night. She had taken care of that, later that night...

Had Miranda Priestly's deep, blue eyes seen something in her that she hadn't been aware of herself? _'Tell me, did you have a girlfriend at college? No, I suspected as much. Your mother seems to think that you don't have time to be interested in dating. I think that you simply aren't interested in _men_, am I right?'_

Right there and then, she had denied it, but what if she had been lying, both to herself and to Miranda? What if she really was a lesbian?

But if I were, she told herself, I would have known… On the other hand; she wasn't interested in men – as daydreams perhaps, of a Mr. Right one day, and those thoughts could get pretty heated too… but in real life, no.

She was a failure, then, because despite all her academic achievements, she had failed to find love, and according to some people, love was all that mattered in the world. Andy wouldn't know. All she knew was that she felt lonely sometimes, and then she wondered if she was ever going to find someone whom she truly wanted to be with.

That seemed highly unlikely. If Nate hadn't been good enough for her, then she really was too picky. At least that was what her friend Lily said. Andy supposed that it was true, but what could she do? She was not ready to lower her standards just because she might want some company, at least not yet. Her fantasies when she masturbated, though she didn't do it so very often, were vague and blurry. She only knew that she wanted _something_, some day, but not what or who.

But now? If Miranda Priestly had that effect on her… She was going to be honest with herself. Sleeping was nearly impossible since that night, because just thinking about Miranda made Andy wet and aching with need. She was hesitant to indulge that need; it seemed wrong. Miranda was married, after all. Regardless, if Miranda had that effect on her, maybe it was a sign? Maybe she had just been blind and simply needed someone to open her eyes?

So Andy decided to take the job offer and start working at _Runway_.


	2. Chapter 2

Working at Miranda's magazine turned out to be not quite what Andy had expected.

Andy walked through the glass doors that led into Miranda Priestly's headquarters and told the girl behind the big white reception desk that she had an appointment with Emily Charlton, just as she had been told to do.

A young woman who was obviously Emily Charlton showed up behind the corner. Seeing Andy she gasped and then muttered something about Human Resources having an odd sense of humour.

All right, Andy thought, so I'm not a model, but there's no need to look at me like I'm something that the cat dragged in. I'm here because Miranda wants me here, after all.

Andy didn't, however, think that it would be a good idea to mention this on her first day of work, so she followed the woman quietly and hoped that the experience of working at a fashion magazine would at least be interesting.

She learned quickly that 'interesting' was not the word for it.

"Miranda sacked the last two girls", Emily said, "we need someone who can survive here."

Emily wasn't joking. When someone notified Emily that Miranda was on her way in, everybody started to run around like crazy. Andy soon learned that this was normal behavior when the editor came in early without warning. Andy learned that everyone was going to do exactly what Miranda wanted exactly when she wanted it, if not sooner, and the woman was, in short, monstrously efficient. Although she did not expect anyone to actually be her match in that, she expected everybody to to give more than their very best effort.

Andy already knew, of course, that Miranda wasn't an easy boss to please. She could remember that even she had been a little afraid of the silver-haired woman, but she had not realized what it actually meant to work for her.

Because work was what she was expected to do. It didn't matter that Miranda had known Andy since she was two years old and it didn't matter that only a few days earlier she had made it clear to Andy that she was, as she had put it, 'available.'

Miranda in her office seemed to have nothing to do with Miranda in her home.

The first time Miranda spoke to her in the office, she looked at her as if she was nothing more than a stranger, not unlike the way Emily had looked at her. She told Andy, coldly, that if she wanted to work at _Runway_ she should locate some fashion sense, and quickly.

Damn, Andy thought, I should have taken mom's advice. But she had considered herself perfectly capable of choosing her own clothes and she hadn't thought that it mattered that much what she wore. Miranda already found her attractive, didn't she?

"Well", Andy blushed, "I guess that depends on how you…"

"No, no", Miranda said, "that wasn't a question."

"Look", Andy said, "I know that I don't fit in here, but I am smart and I can work hard, and it _was_ you who said…"

A bald man with glasses walked in and began showing Miranda some photos of something. Miranda didn't look at Andy anymore. She just waved her off impatiently, so Andy went to find Emily again.

That was Andy's first day at work. All the new things, all the new words, all the new people and all the sentences Emily started with 'I'm only going to say this once…' made Andy dizzy and exhausted. She questioned her capacity to survive there for as long as another day, much less the whole summer or, god forbid, a year.

Miranda's behavior no longer surprised her. Miranda was just herself, but maybe more intense and more preoccupied than when she was having dinner with Andy's parents. It was her behavior at Andy's graduation party that had been unusual. Andy remembered that now.

What was I thinking, she asked herself, that Miranda was going to say 'Welcome, let's go and get a hotel room'? Of course not! And this seduction thing was probably just a joke anyway.

She had to admit that the thought disappointed her. But at the same time she wondered why Miranda had hired her if she didn't want her around. Was it because she enjoyed watching Andy make a fool of herself? Andy decided _not_ to be a fool; she was going to work at _Runway_, and she was going to be the best assistant Miranda Priestly ever had.

Not that that was an easy task, far from it. There were so many things that Andy didn't know, things that she, in fact, didn't know existed. But she learned as quickly as she could and did her best. During the first weeks, Miranda called her 'Emily' and seemed more than once to be tempted to throw Andy out of the window because of her 'incompetence.' Andy tried to ignore the growing attraction she felt for her boss despite how she acted. And to be honest, after a while she did understand why Miranda acted that way. She was like the conductor of a great orchestra; _Runway_ was the symphony and the staff were the musicians. Miranda was the one in charge, the one responsible for every single sound, and she had to have complete control of even the smallest part of the whole at any given moment. And Emily and Andy were the ones who turned the sheets of music on her music stand.

And who could avoid being in complete awe of that?

***

After a while, she had begun to understand the work she was supposed to do. But the more she understood it, the more room was left in her brain for other thoughts. Thoughts about sex. Thoughts about Miranda. Thoughts about having sex with Miranda. Not that she would ever know what that would be like, but each day that passed found her wanting more and more to discover.

I want to have sex, were the words that were spinning around constantly in her head – at least when she was not working, and sometimes when she was. I'm too old to be a virgin and I know what I want now; it's my turn to know now! How can anybody expect me to make decisions about my future when I don't even know what it's like to have sex?

Andy decided that she wasn't imagining and making things up because she was going crazy. Miranda _was_ looking at her with a knowing little smirk when she thought that no one noticed. Miranda was watching and waiting for her to make the next move.

So, one night, after having dropped the Book off at the townhouse Andy drove to a hotel and called Miranda. She didn't have the courage to face Miranda in her home, but once back in the safety of her car, she cursed herself for being such a damn coward. So she drove to the nearest hotel and there she dialed Miranda's number, quickly, before she could change her mind again.

"I was wondering", she said meekly, "if I could buy you a drink or something."

She heard Miranda breathe at the other end.

"Where are you?"

"At the Taft Hotel."

"Did you get a room?"

"No…I know it's pretty late, and…"

"Give me an hour." Miranda cut her off, as always when Andy started babbling. "I'll be there in an hour."

An hour? An hour? What was Andy supposed to be doing there all alone for an hour? She thought about driving around in her car for a while, but that wasn't safe; she didn't want to get stuck in the traffic. So she sat in the hotel bar with a coke and she tried her best not to look nervous and out of place.

She thought that people were looking at her. _There sits a girl waiting for her married lover…_ If only they knew that the lover was a woman, then they'd have something to talk about! If only they knew that the woman was her boss, and not her lover yet, they would laugh and tell her that it was nothing but a practical joke. Any minute now Stephen was going to come through that door, laughing mockingly.

Andy was fidgeting in her corner becoming more and more nervous. There was a party going on in another part of the hotel and she almost considered going in there, pretending to be one of the guests, and thus getting out of this awkward situation.

And then, suddenly, Miranda was there. She swept in elegantly and calmly, as if she met women in hotel bars every night – but a workaholic surely couldn't do that – and she sat down close to Andy who was very relieved, but still nervous.

"I will have a martini", Miranda said to the waiter, and when he left, she turned to Andy.

"You don't have to be so nervous, you know…"

"Nervous, um… It's hard not to be nervous when you…"

Miranda interrupted her, as always not into small talk.

"Did you get us a room yet?"

"Um, no…"

Andy had sort of figured that Miranda was going to take care of that, but no; Miranda did not do such things for herself. She hesitated. She didn't want Miranda to think that she was afraid or had changed her mind, but all she had said when she called was that she wanted to buy Miranda a drink. Miranda seemed to have interpreted that as a euphemism.

Miranda settled the question by ordering impatiently, "Go get the room now."

So Andy did. When she had the key, Miranda followed her.

The room was… just a room. A small corner room with three windows. It didn't look much different from any other hotel rooms Andy had seen and that was precisely what was wrong with it. It should have been the royal suite. It was not a place for Miranda Priestly. It was not a place to make love in for the very first time.

Andy turned off the lights, walked over to the windows and closed the blinds.

Miranda turned the lights on again.

Andy felt like turning them off one more time, but that would have been childish. She didn't know what to do. She wanted to kiss Miranda – to finally find out what that was like – but she didn't know how to make the move. Should she just go to her, grab her and..?

She would have preferred it if Miranda had kissed her first, but the older woman showed no such intentions. Instead, she began unbuttoning her blouse, and Andy found herself once again staring at Miranda's breasts.

How could she dare touch this woman? She felt a sudden urge to slam her head into the wall, repeatedly, and she had to brace herself. She could hardly breathe.

"What's the matter?" Miranda said, probably reading desperation on Andy's face. "Don't you find me desirable?"

"I think you're the most attractive of all my parent's friends… I mean, you're very desirable."

Shit, Andy thought, why did I say it like that? I'm so stupid!

But Andy couldn't help thinking a little about her parents. What would they think of her if they saw her right now on her way to jumping into bed with her father's partner's wife? They wouldn't like it at all.

But it doesn't matter, Andy thought, because _I_ like it. Or, I will like it… I think.

She wasn't so sure. Miranda was, after all, an older woman. She was experienced with certain expectations for a lover, no doubt, and Andy knew nothing. She had no idea how to make love, although the woman did have a body similar to her own – if Miranda's perfection could be similar to anyone – and what if she was going to make a total fool of herself with her awkward clumsiness? Miranda didn't tolerate it at work. Why would she put up with it in bed?

"Are you afraid of me?"

"No", Andy lied, "no, no. You're missing the point."

I'm not as much afraid of you, she thought, as of this whole situation.

Miranda leaned in a little closer to her and said, "Can I ask you a personal question? Is this your first time?"

Andy wanted to say no, because saying yes would make her look ridiculous. How could anyone her age be a virgin? Even if Miranda thought it obvious that this was her first time with another woman, she could still have slept with men, couldn't she?

Evidently Miranda didn't buy that.

"You can admit that, can't you? It's nothing to be ashamed of."

Andy realized that Miranda could read her like an open book; that she had been reading her probably ever since the night Andy drove her home, and that had been her point the whole time. For some mysterious reason, Miranda _liked_ that this was her first time.

Andy nodded, slowly.

Miranda then took off her silk blouse and put it on a chair. She didn't smile, exactly, but she didn't look unkindly at Andy. But she didn't move. She was waiting.

Andy reached out a slightly shivering hand and touched Miranda's bare shoulder.

Miranda's skin was soft and warm. Andy almost believed that she could stay like that for ages, just barely touching her. She was almost breathless because of that small contact with another person's skin.

She let her fingertips slide over the shoulder and, slowly, downwards over the arm, and up again. Back to the shoulder. Miranda's lips parted just a little, and Andy could see her pulse beating faster. This quickened her blood, too, but she didn't dare rush. She began to follow the strap of Miranda's black lace bra with a fingertip. She traced the strap down to the lace that covered the other woman's magnificent breast, and there, on the skin just above the lace, she stopped.

Were her fingertips resting on Miranda's breast? Yes. She could feel the warm softness of Miranda's skin. She had to believe that it was real. She wanted to… she wanted to…

Miranda sighed, and put her hand on Andy's, pressing Andy's palm against her breast. Her fingers moved over Andy's hand as if to guide her.

"There", she said, "you are allowed to touch me. I want you to. I'll show you what I want, Andrea, I'll show you what this is all about."

So Andy felt the weight of Miranda's breasts in her hands and began exploring them over the fabric. Her caresses were shy, careful, but she wasn't completely clueless because she had breast of her own after all, and she guessed that she was on the right track when Miranda gasped a little when Andy's curious fingers touched her nipples. They were hard.

Miranda moved her hands behind her back and undid the bra so Andy could see what she was touching.

I'll just do what _I_ think feels good, Andy told herself as she looked at her hand as her touches gained a little more confidence. Is this good? she wondered, does she really like it? And then she looked the other woman in the eyes.

"Miranda", she whispered, because her voice was suddenly so weak, "please, kiss me."

And as if Miranda only had been waiting for the request, she kissed Andy.

When Miranda put her hands on Andy's shoulder and allowed their lips to meet, Andy was … beside herself. It was as if she had flown up to the ceiling and was watching them both from above, she viewed the scene without fully realizing that she was part of it. Andy had already fantasized many, many times about kissing Miranda, but she hadn't been able to imagine what it would be like. Now she knew.

Miranda loosened her grip around Andy and their lips parted. She looked at Andy with a knowing little smile as if she realized how overwhelmed and dizzy Andy was. Her head was spinning, she _was_ flying, wasn't she? Then she touched Andy's lips with hers again. This time, Andy stayed on the floor in Miranda's arms and she took in the strange and amazing sensation as she began to follow, to understand, to realize what a kiss was supposed to feel like. What was it that she had been doing with Nate before? Maybe she had called it kissing, but now she knew that it had been nothing but smothering. _This_ was kissing and she never wanted to stop.

But Miranda wanted to move on. After a while she was tugging at Andy's clothes and, though Andy was aching desperately for her touch, she felt a little awkward too because no one had seen her naked before. Not like _that_ and Miranda was surrounded by beautiful models day out and day in…

"I'm going to undress you now", Miranda informed her as if she could feel her hesitation, "and I really don't think you mind."

"I don't mind", Andy gulped, and she began to help. Soon enough, she felt Miranda's hands on her naked skin, and it was glorious, glorious, and she allowed herself to just let go and follow Miranda's lead.

Miranda took it slow and was surprisingly gentle at first, but there was nothing _gentle_ about the explosive force of the orgasm that left Andy panting, quivering and blushing. And Miranda didn't wait many moments before she whispered, "You enjoyed that, didn't you, Andrea? And yet that was just the beginning."

Oh, it was. Andy learned that during the weeks that followed. She had been so overwhelmed that first night. She didn't stop feeling amazed by it, but she learned to not be shy and insecure. She stopped feeling awkward about being naked in front of Miranda. She began to see how her naked body could bring pleasure, even joy (but she didn't dare call it happiness) to the other woman. She was not only allowed to but encouraged, even required, to take as much pleasure as she was giving.

A whole new life began. Getting up in the morning, going to _Runway_, smiling at Emily and Nigel; it all felt like part of a game. Miranda looked at her as icily as before and said things like, 'by all means, move at a glacial pace, you know how that thrills me' or 'Andrea, are you still with us, or did your mind just take a walk up on Mars?', and sometimes, Andy blushed and stuttered in front of her.

But then came the time, late in the evenings, when they were alone in the office. Or if that wasn't possible, maybe Stephen and the twins were out for the weekend and when Andy dropped the Book off, she also dropped all of her clothes. Or maybe Miranda texted her and told her to come to this or that hotel, which Andy did. Always, without hesitation. She felt restless and lost when Miranda had some important dinner or function to go to where Andy's presence wasn't required.


	3. Chapter 3

"I want to ask you something", Andy's mother said. "It's really none of my business but … I was wondering what you do after work every night?"

Andy was shaving her legs in the bathroom when her mother walked in without knocking. At her question, Andy's hand froze and she nearly nicked herself with the razor.

"What I do...?"

"You don't have to tell me…"

"But I want to tell you", Andy said, quickly. "I… I drive around."

Her mother looked surprised.

"You don't drive around from midnight to the next day…"

The truth was that sometimes Andy did just that. She didn't see Miranda every night because Miranda had important work to do and after all, so did Andy. They both needed sleep and Miranda had not once asked Andy to _sleep_ with her. But some nights when she wasn't meeting Miranda, she was just feeling restless and she drove around for hours, trying to figure out her next step.

Because as much as she liked fucking Miranda Priestly in secret she had a sinking feeling that it couldn't last forever.

"Are you seeing someone?"

This time, Andy did cut herself.

"No! Why do you say that?"

Her mother stared at her, clearly not believing one world she said. She walked out of the bathroom looking disappointed in her only child.

Andy hated disappointing her parents, and she understood that her mother was only concerned because of her secrecy, but she didn't know what to say.

Why didn't she ever know what to say?

Andy really liked to kiss Miranda's inner thighs and to feel her warm wetness with the tip of her fingers and then with her mouth – there, at the most sensitive spot, and move her tongue over it the way that she knew made Miranda moan. Andy liked it when Miranda did the same to her, too. She also liked – no, adored – Miranda's breasts. And she adored how Miranda's mouth felt on her body. She liked kissing most of all.

Or maybe what she liked most of all was when they hadn't been able to meet for a couple of days and she felt like she was bursting with need to feel Miranda's hands on her body. In these moments they didn't speak much, they didn't even kiss before Andy was undressing herself. And then Miranda, whose voice was thicker than usual, would say something like: "Oh, you want it so badly now, don't you? You want me to take you hard, right now?"

Andy couldn't even say yes properly.

No, what she liked most of all was when she caught Miranda looking at her in the office, or when Miranda sometimes fell into a light sleep beside her, exhausted and sated.

What she didn't like was when Miranda got dressed afterwards and hardly even looked at Andy; when it had all happened too quickly and maybe they hadn't even spoken at all.

She liked it when they were both too excited to utter coherent sentences. She didn't like it when she felt that Miranda was shutting her out.

"Miranda", she said one day and broke the spell of one of the kisses she liked so much, "do you think we could say a few words to each other first this time?"

"I don't think we have much to say to each other", Miranda replied and put out the lamp by the bed.

Andy sighed. She felt so frustrated. 'I don't think we have much to say to each other'? Was that all?

Yeah, maybe. Sometimes, Miranda used that phrase even in the bedroom, as if making love to her was just one of Andy's many duties. Andy had to admit that she hadn't cared much about it in the beginning. It had all been so new and exciting and… and _hot_, and having sex with Miranda was like entering a whole new world. It was a joy she had thrown herself into with body and soul. It was a pleasure she hadn't known existed…and she hadn't asked for anything more.

And yet she realized then, when Miranda spoke so bluntly, that she did want more. At some point during their tryst she had fallen for the older woman. She knew she shouldn't have. It was just stupid. But Andy had read enough romantic poetry in her life to know that the human heart couldn't be expected to be rational. Love's nature was irrationality; it was a trap and a curse and apparently sex could make it happen.

But it wasn't just the sex. It was that look in Miranda's eyes she could swear that she saw sometimes. That look not of desire, and perhaps not of love, but of some kind of longing and a tenderness that she probably _had_ to hide to be able to do her work and stay on top.

Andy had learned that much. A single act of kindness could be interpreted as weakness and Miranda was a part of a world where even a hint of weakness could ruin careers. She had to be an ice queen, a dragon lady.

Miranda was so good at being the queen that nobody could see that even this empress is just a person. Maybe Miranda forgot it, too.

But Andy saw. She knew. She knew that Miranda loved her work, just as well as she knew that Miranda didn't love Stephen. Didn't she need someone to love and be loved by? Because the magazine didn't exactly love her back, did it?

"Look", she said, "all we do is to come up here and leap into bed together…"

She wanted more and Miranda, too, wanted something more than just a body to warm her bed. Andy was sure of it, even if Miranda didn't know it herself.

"Are you tired of it?"

"I'm not, no!" Andy said, and sighed deeply. "But do you think we could liven it up with some conversation for a change?"

"What do you want to talk about?" Miranda didn't look at Andy. "We talk at work."

"No," Andy objected, "We don't. You don't talk at work, you give orders and dismiss me."

"Your point?"

Nobody could pull off the _you're-an-idiot_ glare like Miranda Priestly. There were times at work when Andy nearly forgot that Miranda was her lover. But she refused to be bossed around any more.

Andy wanted to shake her lover, shake her so that all the pieces that made up the puzzle fell into place and then they could maybe understand each other.

"Think of something", she tried.

But Miranda just refused to talk about anything properly. Fashion? She just snorted. What could Andy possibly have to say about fashion? Miranda wasn't interested in giving lessons and Andy didn't want them.

"What did you do this morning?" she tried.

"I got up", Miranda replied with false obligingness. "I went to work. I had to wait for the elevator because the man in it wouldn't get out. I handed you my coat and bag, I got in to my office and I drank my – "

"Okay, stop."

This was impossible. Why didn't Miranda want to talk to her? The answer that had forced its way to the forefront of her mind was very unappealing and Andy didn't want to think about it. Instead she tried to ask Miranda about Stephen. What did she tell him? How did she manage to handle the situation? Didn't he ask questions when Miranda went out at night?

"We have separate bedrooms", she admitted.

"Oh, I see", Andy said. "So… you don't sleep together anymore?"

The thought comforted her. She hadn't given it much thought to start with but by now, the idea that Stephen and Miranda… well, she didn't like it.

"No, we don't."

Andy didn't dare tell her how relieved she was. Miranda should understand it anyway. Neither of them wanted to talk about Stephen and she tried to think of something else to ask, but Miranda was quicker.

"All right", she said, "you want me to talk, so I can just as well tell you this: My daughter, Elaine, is coming to stay with me next week. She'll be here for the rest of the summer."

"Oh", Andy said, "that's nice. But I guess I'll be seeing less of you, then?"

"Why do think that? I'll be at work and for the rest, well, I don't see why anything has to change just because she's coming."

"Why didn't Elaine grow up with you?" she asked, once again daring a personal question. Much to her surprise, Miranda answered:

"I wanted to get as far away from her father as possible when I divorced him. I wanted my life back and I wanted to start building my career."

"But if you felt that way why did you marry him in the first place?"

There was a moment of silence.

"See if you can guess."

Miranda glared, she'd allow Andy to ask but wouldn't be volunteering the information.

"I can't. I can't see why… Oh, you mean you did it because you were pregnant?"

Andy didn't see Miranda as someone who could be stopped and trapped by anything, not even pregnancy, but of course even Miranda must have been young and impressionable at some time in her life.

"Yes", Miranda admitted. "It was our parents that… As soon as his parents died, so did our marriage. He wanted custody. It was easiest and best for everyone."

There was a rattle in the darkness of the room. Miranda poured something into a glass.

"Best for her, too? Didn't you miss her?"

"I kept myself busy. I saw her sometimes…"

Miranda turned on the light and looked at Andy.

"Andrea, I can't see why this is so interesting to you."

"I thought", Andy said and looked into Miranda's beautiful blue eyes, "that maybe you wanted to tell me how you feel about… things."

"Not particularly", Miranda said, and tried to take Andy in her arms but Andy steered away.

"Wait a minute! Okay, I get it. You don't want to tell me anything. And I guess you haven't told her anything about yourself either."

"Stop talking about Elaine."

Miranda's voice was sharp and she put the light out again.

"What? Why…"

"There's nothing to tell."

"Why is she such a big taboo subject? Is it because you left her?"

Miranda didn't answer.

"I guess I will have to get to know her", Andy said, "and find out."

"Andrea," Miranda put the light on again. She rolled over and pushed Andy down into the mattress, her face suddenly pale, like the ice queen she was said to be. Her eyes were harder than Andy had ever seen them.

"Andrea, don't you ever take that girl out!"

Andy didn't understand. Why was Miranda suddenly so protective like a lioness whose cub was endangered? And why was the thought of Andy getting to know Elaine so threatening?

"I have no intention of taking her out."

Andy didn't even much feel like meeting Elaine Robinson at all. It could be very interesting to meet her but, on the other hand, it could be very awkward, too. She hadn't seen her since they were kids. The twins and Stephen were different, but Elaine… Andy realised that meeting Miranda's older daughter wouldn't bring the two of them any closer, it would only be a reminder of everything that was between them: Miranda's life that she had lived before, the life Andy never could be a part of because Miranda didn't even want to share the present with Andy, much less the past.

"I wasn't being serious, Miranda," Andy said, and thought about getting up from the bed. Maybe she should just leave if Miranda was going to keep acting weird…

"Good", Miranda said.

"But why shouldn't I taker her out?" Andy changed her mind, determined not to drop the subject.

"I have my reasons."

Was that a sigh? Was that a hint of sadness in her voice?

If so, Andy thought, give it to me; let me in! Let me understand you!

Or was it irritation?

"Let me hear them."

"No."

"I think", Andy snapped, "that I know the reasons. I'm not good enough for her, am I? I'm not important enough to be around in your life. I'm good enough for _this_…"

"Andrea, that's enough."

"No, I want to know why you won't talk to me, why you don't want me to talk about your daughter."

Andy looked at Miranda, wondering what they were doing there. Why did Miranda even want her in the first place?

"I'm good enough for _this_ but I'm not good enough for your daughter, and that's it, isn't it?"

Miranda looked away; didn't say anything.

Andy was loosing the little patience she had left and shouted as she pulled the sheet off Miranda's naked body,

"That's it, isn't it?"

Still no answer. Miranda just sat up, slowly, reached for the sheet and covered herself again. Her eyes seemed to scream something from the bottom of her soul but no words came out of her mouth. And then she said it, just one word:

"Yes."

Right there and then, something snapped in Andy's brain and hot flames were dancing in front of her eyes, making Miranda all blurry and strange.

"Go to hell, Miranda! Who do you take me for? Do you think I'm proud of this?"

"I wouldn't know."

"Well, I am not."

Andy started to get dressed but her fingers were shaking and she couldn't manage the buttons. She wanted to hurry up and leave but the more she tried, the slower her fingers moved, as if she was trapped in some fever dream.

"I'm not proud", she blurted out, heavily as if she was running, "that I spend my free time fucking my boss as if I got paid to do it when I'm really getting _nothing_…"

"I see", Miranda breathed, barely audible, behind her back.

"I come here out of sheer boredom", Andy went on, even as some part of her brain shouted at her to stop. "This is the sickest, most perverted thing that ever happened to me. That's all!"

Miranda turned around and looked at her.

"Oh, really? That's how you feel about me, that I'm a sick and disgusting person?"

"Don't start this", Andy snapped, already moving towards the bedroom door.

"What, you don't expect me to be hurt?"

Andy stopped. No, of all the things she could have expected Miranda to say that was not one of them. It looked too much like a confession coming from Miranda, and Andy simply didn't understand how the woman's brain worked. Miranda hurt Andy, she couldn't deny that, by acting the way she did. Why would a person do that, if she was afraid of getting hurt herself?

"You just told me that I'm not good enough for your daughter," she said, as if it was the entire reason she was upset. Well, it was a start. She couldn't say what she really wanted to say, that much was clear to her.

"Did I say that?" Miranda looked at her as if she really didn't remember her own words. "I didn't mean to give you that impression. Andrea… I would never say that you aren't as good a person as she is."

Andy tried to recapitulate the conversation in her head but as the red flames in front of her eyes faded away, so did the words they had spoken just moments ago.

"You wouldn't?"

"Of course I wouldn't," Miranda said with a sigh, and she, too, began to get dressed.

She looked tired, exhausted even. Andy had never seen her like that before; she looked almost as harried as Emily usually did at the end of a long work day.

"What are you doing?" she said.

Miranda sniffed.

"It's obvious that you don't want me around."

Andy reflected on the fact that Miranda had just answered a very stupid question.

"Um…", she said, "wait… I was kind of upset there. I'm sorry I said those things."

"It's all right", Miranda said with her office voice. "I can understand why I am disgusting to you."

No, Andy wanted to scream, no, it's not like that! You've got it all wrong! How did this happen?

"No, Miranda, honestly, I'm sorry. I…"

_I love you_. No. Not that…

Andy had to say something and she didn't know what. She turned to the door but didn't open it. It was white and she stared at it as if she expected to see words written on it; black, bold words, instructing her, guiding her…

"I enjoy this… what we have. I look forward to it, always, it's… the one thing I've got to look forward to."

"Andrea, look at me", Miranda demanded, and Andy turned around again, slowly.

"You don't have to say that", Miranda said, with a stern, sphinx-like expression.

"But I mean it."

"Then", Miranda said, "I want you promise not to take Elaine out."

And instantly, Andy was ready to leave again.

"This is absurd. The thought didn't even occur to me."

"Then promise me."

Andy looked at her. Yes, it was absurd. But what harm could it do to promise? If it was that important to Miranda that she said it, why shouldn't she?

So she said it, that she promised to stay away from Elaine Robinson, and both of them took off their clothes again. Their bodies clashed as if they were both trying to prove something. Miranda kissed Andy like a challenge, as if to say 'I own your soul', and she hissed:

"You want me, Andrea, say that you want me."

"Yes", Andy panted. "Yes, I want you."

And then, suddenly, Andy was on top of her, pinning Miranda to the mattress, kissing her forcefully. Miranda buried her fingers in her hair like a hungry animal trying to devour her but Andy broke free. Her mouth travelled downwards over Miranda's throat, her shoulders, nibbling, leaving marks. She moved quickly and when she was close enough to taste Miranda's silvery juices she took up the challenge, silently warning Miranda:

'Okay. Own it, then – but only if you remember that once taken, it can never be returned.'

Later, they rested quietly together, close as if nothing had ever happened. But something _had_ happened, even if Andy couldn't figure out what, exactly. She sensed, vaguely, that something was broken between them.

It scared her but she didn't dare try to talk about it. As long as Miranda was calm and reasonable, Andy decided, she wasn't going to try to win another argument.


	4. Chapter 4

"Andy, come here please," her father called from the living room after dinner.

She walked into the room reluctantly, preferring to spend as little time as possible with her parents. Knowing that they still considered her their innocent little girl made her uncomfortable but she couldn't stop thinking about Miranda nearly all the time. Even in the middle of a dinner conversation she found lost herself in memories of Miranda's voice when she made that hoarse sound of pleasure when Andy sucked hard on her nipples or buried her fingers deeply in her wetness…

Andy tried to remember that she was upset and even angry with Miranda, but at times she could only remember how much she wanted the older woman, the unattainable and yet so available editor. It was as impossible to stop thinking about it as it was inappropriate to do so in the presence of her parents.

"I just wanted to talk to you about Miranda Priestly's daughter, Elaine," her father explained, and Andy froze. "You're invited to some kind of fashion party, aren't you? Stephen seems to think that you are."

"I'm not going to the party," she said.

It was just a reflex. Even as the words left her mouth she knew that she couldn't avoid going. Miranda and Emily had other things to do that night but someone from Runway had to be there. It was just that as soon as she heard that name she wanted to run away. She didn't get it, she really didn't, but she knew that it was important to Miranda that she didn't even meet Elaine and now she couldn't even hear the name without a cold shudder down her spine.

Her father went on talking.

"Of course you're going to the party if you're invited. Stephen says Elaine is very sweet with the twins and a very nice young woman. She's part of the family, so he's hoping that she'll like it here. Make a few new friends, have fun…"

"You need to be nice to her," Andy's mother said, "but you will be, of course."

Andy gave her an empty glare, trying to hide the sudden rush of desperation.

"Why?"

"What do you mean, 'why'? She's Miranda's daughter and you liked her when you were little, don't you remember?"

"No," Andy grunted, "I don't. I don't remember her at all. I don't see why I have to hang out with her."

Andy's parents stared at her in disbelief.

"What's the matter with you? Miranda and Stephen are our friends and Elaine is a very nice person, that's why!"

Andy wanted to shout: 'But Miranda says I can't see Elaine, I don't want to see her, I just want Miranda to trust me!', but of course she couldn't say any of that. Andy knew that Miranda wanted her to keep their relationship – or perhaps 'affair' was the better word for it – a secret.

"Elaine's older than the twins," she muttered, "and she's older than me. She doesn't need a babysitter."

"Stephen thinks you two would hit it off well," her dad said, as if that was all that mattered.

"I would never be rude to her or anything if I happened to meet her some time," she promised, "I just don't see why I _have_ to see her…"

"Stephen also mentioned," her dad said, looking out of the window as if he saw something interesting out there, "that Elaine appears to be gay, as far as he knows."

"So?" Andy said with an unpleasant feeling in her stomach, "So what if she is?"

"No, nothing," her dad mumbled, "It was just that it hit me… I was just, um, thinking…"

"It's none of our business of course," Andy's mom supplied, and she dared to look at Andy when she spoke, "and we don't want to jump to any conclusions but since you've never brought a boy home so far…"

"Mom!"

Andy stared at her parents. What were they, a couple of matchmakers?

"Well," said her mother, "maybe you aren't, but… we just want you to know that if you are, then it's fine, and maybe…"

"No!" Andy cut her off. "Listen, even if I'm gay I'm not going to date Elaine. I said I'll be nice to her, okay? But nothing more and that's all."

Andy stormed out of the living room and wished desperately that she could get her own place. But there was no rush, said her parents, why should she pay rent for some shabby little apartment when she could live comfortably in their house until she had decided what she was really going to do with her life? Because she wasn't going to work at _Runway_ forever, was she?

No, maybe not. A part of her wanted to quit right that instant. She thought about calling Miranda and telling her to tell her husband to stop helping her parents run her life. Maybe Stephen and her dad had been planning it all along? 'When I get married, I will have a fine son who will eventually take over for me and you will have a daughter for him to marry…' It was just that Andy's parents only had her, and Stephen and Miranda didn't get the twins until years later. Andy wished that she had a younger brother, or even a sister, who could date one of the twins.

Andy sighed. She was not going to quit. And she was not going to call Miranda. What could she say? Surely Miranda wouldn't understand what it felt like to answer stupid questions from her parents when all she wanted to do was to tell them that yes, she was in love, with the most wonderful woman in the world and she only wished that they could both be happy.

***

Andy was not a party girl, normally, but working as Miranda's assistant meant that she had to go to all sorts of functions and, one step at a time, she eventually became used to it. She had even learned to recognize a few important faces, such as James Holt and other designers, and she felt quite at ease when she talked to them.

One familiar face she didn't want to meet, however, was the face she only knew from a photo she had seen once; the face of a woman whom she was supposed to stay away from or become friends with, depending on who was talking.

Andy was having a glass of punch when a voice behind her gave a warning.

"It's right about deadly."

Andy turned around and faced a smiling woman with long, curly blonde hair. The woman extended her hand, saying:

"Hi, I'm Elaine Robinson. Miranda's daughter."

"Oh, hi! We've met, like um, ages ago…"

A part of her wanted to run far, far away but another part of her told her that Miranda's behavior had been absurd and besides, Miranda wasn't even there so what harm could it do if she talked to the woman?

"I know. You're Andy Sachs. I remember you. And you work for Miranda now and that's why you're in desperate need of hard liquor."

It wasn't really true. Andy had learned that a drink in her hand at a party didn't do her any harm but she wasn't in the habit of drinking a lot or often. She got all the intoxication she needed from Miranda's sparkling eyes.

"Um, yeah… I guess so… So, what do you do, Elaine?"

"I'm a writer."

Andy gasped and felt her head start spinning. Why hadn't she taken a closer look at that photo Miranda had shown her? She hadn't been paying attention at all at that moment. Now she realized that she had seen photos of Elaine before next to articles and newspaper columns.

"Oh my god! You're… you're Elaine Robinson!"

"Yes," Elaine smiled, "that's what my birth certificate says."

Andy blushed and felt stupid. But how was she supposed to know? There could be more people with that name out there! For some reason she had not connected Miranda's daughter's name to the writer she admired so much.

She was angry with her parents for never telling her. Then she thought that they probably didn't even know. Miranda had probably never told them much about Elaine. Andy knew that it was mostly Stephen who was her parents' friend, not his wife. And maybe Miranda had been silent on the subject of Elaine even in front of her husband.

Now that Andy thought about it, it didn't surprise her much. She just couldn't quite grasp the fact.

"You're kidding. You write for like every magazine I love."

Andy smiled widely, completely oblivious of Miranda's request that she was not going to take any interest in Elaine. How could Miranda not have mentioned that her daughter was a famous writer? Did she not care? Did she assume that Andy knew already?

Elaine smiled, too, as if she was both very pleased and a little embarrassed about being recognized as someone important and admirable.

"I actually reviewed your collection of essays for my college newspaper," Andy went on, and Elaine cut her of by saying:

"Did you mention my good looks and my killer charm?"

The young woman smirked; her tone of voice was joking and light, but there was a strong hint of something unmistakably flirty in there, and wasn't that a rainbow-colored bracelet dangling from her wrist?

"No, but…"

Elaine must have sensed that it was best to steer the conversation away from herself and asked Andy what she was doing when she was not slaving for Miranda.

Andy thought it a little odd that Elaine wasn't referring to Miranda as 'mom' or something but she answered the question with a hopeful smile, if with a little bit of shyness.

"I want to be a writer, too."

"Is that right?"

Andy took a sip of her drink, searching for her confidence.

"Yes. I'd love to be a novelist one day, and write plays…"

"I should read your stuff… Why don't you send it over?"

Elaine was suddenly looking all serious and earnest, as if she really was eager to do something for Andy. Since she hadn't had any interested and competent readers of her 'stuff' after she moved back home to her parents, Andy accepted with joy.

Elaine was very different from her mother, so open and so smiling.

"I'd love to read it. I've got a good feeling about you, Andy. I just can't get over the fact that you're working for my mother, that's… whoa…! You'll never survive her."

Elaine laughed, or did she snort? There was something bitter and experienced, even blasé, in her voice and Andy became a bit watchful. How could Elaine know anything about what working for Miranda was like? And even if she had known, Andy knew more about Miranda than most people. Or at least she thought she did, sometimes.

"Gotta go," she said, and began to turn around.

There was that little laugh again.

"Okay. Well, it was very, very nice to meet you again."

Who talks like that? Andy asked herself as she looked around for someone else she knew. She sounded like she was almost flirting with me or something…

The idea was remarkable. Andy had never really thought about that possibility before, that a woman could flirt with her. What Miranda had done was, after all, not quite that. She hadn't smiled or asked interested questions about Andy. She had, in fact, behaved completely differently and yet Andy had fallen for her.

But she felt Elaine's eyes on her many times that night. She looked her way sometimes, just a very quick glance, and Andy couldn't deny that there was something in her that enjoyed the attention.

Elaine showed up at the office one week later. She stormed in through the glass doors as if she belonged there.

"Hi Andy, good to see you again." Her wide grin faded. "What's the matter with you, do I have something on my face that makes me look scary?"

Andy blushed, realizing that she must look petrified. She took a deep breath and tried to smile back.

"No, not at all. Good to see you, too. You're here to see your mother, right?"

Elaine laughed, making heads turn in the office. Andy's colleagues were no doubt dying to know how Andy could dare bring a friend in during office hours. Because someone who laughed like that must surely be a friend and not someone important…

"No, silly. I'm here to see you. I just wanted to tell you in person that I've read some of the stuff you sent me. Some of it is really good; you write well."

Andy would have loved to talk about her writing anywhere else except in the office. Any minute now, Miranda was going to return. Andy could feel it; she always did. And she was right.

Miranda, who had been away somewhere with Emily, walked in and a chilly wind followed in her wake.

"Elaine," she said coldly as she dropped her coat and bag in Emily's hands, "what are you doing here? Do you need me for something? Has anything happened to your sisters?"

"Not at all," Elaine replied, "I just came to see Andy for a minute. I was going to ask her out to lunch."

Miranda's glare shifted from her daughter to Andy.

"Andrea," she informed, "is not free to have lunch right now, she has a lot of work to do. As do I, so if you didn't want anything else?"

Elaine was going to answer but Miranda didn't stay to listen. She closed the door to her office and it wasn't until Andy began breathing again that she realized that she had been holding her breath for far too long.

"That's my loving mother," Elaine said with a sniff. "She's even colder than she usually is, you guys must have a lot to do here today. I should go, right? I'll call you some time."

"Andrea," Miranda called from her room.

"By the way," Elaine went on, "are you seeing anyone?"

Andy stared at her as if she had forgotten how to talk. She felt an unexpected longing for the time when the only possible answer had been a simple 'no.'

"Um," she hesitated, "I'm, um, sort of… it's, you know, complicated."

"Andrea," Emily snapped, "I don't think Miranda is referring to me when she calls your name!"

Andy had never been so glad to hear Emily's voice.

"Gotta go," she said, and hurried to Miranda.

Miranda's face was blank. Then she slowly pursed her lips.

"What were you doing talking to my daughter as if you know her?" she asked in a surprisingly calm and low voice.

Andy knew better than to think that she wasn't upset.

"We met at James Holt's party," she explained. "I didn't mention it because I didn't think it mattered. It's nothing to be upset about."

"But I am extremely upset about it," Miranda said.

She barely moved her lips when she spoke and she didn't look angry. Someone who saw them without hearing the words would only believe that Miranda was simply instructing Andy about something work related.

"Look," Andy said, exasperated, "we had to meet sooner or later. It happened to be at that stupid party and if I hadn't met her then, my parents and your husband would have made me meet her because it's important to them. I have told you before that I'm not interested-"

Miranda cut her off,

"I don't recall having asked for an explanation. You are not to see Elaine again. Those are my orders. Is that clear?"

Andy stared at her. Miranda was very good at giving orders and nothing could be clearer than what she had just said. She looked away without waiting for a reply, as if it was unthinkable to her that Andy could have her own opinion.

"That's all," she said.

"We have all the published Harry Potter books. The twins want to know what happens next."

"You want the unpublished manuscript?"

Andy was standing in front of Miranda's big desk, receiving instructions. It was the first conversation they had had in a couple of days and Miranda spoke to her as if she were explaining that one has to peel an orange before eating it, as if it was the most natural thing in the world that Andy had to get that book.

What's wrong with her? Andy asked herself, What is she trying to say? Is it too much to ask for, wanting to be a part of her life? Just because I hinted that I want to have more of her…

"Look", she said, "if this is about that stupid party… I've already told you that my parents insisted on it, I didn't have a choice…"

Miranda looked at her over the edge of her glasses.

"I'm talking about _Harry Potter_. If I wanted to talk to you about whatever party you are referring to, I would say so."

Andy refused to back off.

"I _talked_ to her, that's all. I don't know why you're so upset…"

Miranda looked down at the photos and papers on her desk and began flickering through them as if she hadn't heard.

"We know everyone in publishing. It shouldn't be a problem, should it?"

Miranda looked quickly up at Andy,

"And you can do everything, right?"

Andy didn't reply. She knew that it was some kind of test. Maybe it was an attempt to fire Andy without actually saying so. If Miranda demanded impossible things of her, then maybe she would quit, and Miranda wouldn't have to have her around.

On the other hand, since when did Miranda need an excuse to get rid of someone? Andy supposed that she just liked to be…well, evil. Miranda had been overreacting ever since she mentioned Elaine the first time and, instead of admitting it, she punished Andy, using the twins no less. What kind of a twisted logic was that? She knew that Andy loved those two little brats as if they were her own little sisters and she knew that Andy would hate to let them down.

But Miranda must also know that what she was asking for was impossible – who could get an unpublished book?

Andy turned around without another word and left Miranda's office just as her cell phone rang. When Miranda took the call and began talking to one of the twins, Andy heard that there was something unnatural in her cooing voice. It was as if she was fuming inside, as if she was a volcano on the verge of an eruption.

Everybody in the office knew that they were walking on eggshells. They had no idea why Miranda was in a particularly difficult mood at the moment but none of them bothered to ask Andy. For them it was only natural because Miranda was a devilish boss and they knew and accepted it. Andy knew that it was just a cover. Her only problem was that she didn't know _what_ Miranda was trying to cover.

And on top of that she had to get Miranda her steak in fifteen minutes.

Andy was running across the streets of New York, steak hunting, and calling everyone she could think of, asking them to make the impossible possible because it was for Miranda Priestly and surely they must know that no one could survive her ire?

But they didn't seem to get that, because no one was willing to even think about lifting a finger to help her.

Then she saw a passing bus advertising Elaine Robinson's latest work on the side.

Elaine.

Cars rushed past her and people had to walk around her as she stopped and blocked the busy traffic on the sidewalk for a moment. If anyone could get her hands on _Harry Potter_ it would be Elaine Robinson. Andy really didn't want to call her but it was her only chance, she knew that. She also knew that Elaine wasn't going to refuse to help if she could.

Not that Andy was an expert on flirting – far from it – but the woman had been standing a little too close to her, hadn't she? And her parents seemed to think she was gay… and that look in Elaine's eyes when she came to the office had been a little too much like Miranda's 'I want you'-look.

Thinking that made Andy's hands ache with longing for Miranda but then she remembered that she was _angry_ with Miranda, and besides, she wanted that book.

So she called.

Then she rushed back to the office, with the steak, and she was falling to pieces.

_What does a girl have to do to win Miranda's heart?_

No, she didn't say that. Because Elaine called, saying that a friend of a friend did the cover art for that impossible and so very important book.

And, later, when the manuscript was in the hands of the twins, Miranda looked at her as if she really was impressed, not that she'd ever say so, and Andy was relieved.

Or at least a little bit relieved. Was Miranda impressed by her as an assistant? Or did she realize that Andy didn't care one bit about her job; she cared only about winning Miranda's trust? Andy could only hope that Elaine was going to keep her promise not to tell her mother that she had helped Andy.

Andy murmured:

"So, um… will I see you tonight?"

Miranda didn't answer but there was a spark of fire in her icy eyes.

"No. That's all."


	5. Chapter 5

"Look at you; you're a vision. Thank God I saved your job."

It was late and Andy was going home one night when Elaine Robinson was suddenly standing right before her. Elaine smiled as if she was genuinely happy to see her.

"Oh," Andy mumbled, "ha ha…"

Andy didn't know what to say. Elaine may not like that she had saved not only Andy's job, but perhaps also her relationship with Miranda.

Well…if it could be called a relationship, since they weren't even having sex anymore. Sometimes Andy thought about giving up, leaving _Runway_ and Miranda, even leaving the city, but she just couldn't bring herself to do it. Not as long as Miranda seemed to want her as her assistant, not as long as she caught Miranda looking at her in _that _way every so often. It wasn't over.

Miranda had been a mystery to her right from the start. There was something appealing, after all, in a mystery. She was sure that Miranda had pursued her for a reason. And how could someone be so distant and cold, and yet so smoking hot in bed? There was something in Miranda that _needed_ Andy, she was sure of it, even if Miranda didn't understand it herself.

But Elaine looked at her like someone who wouldn't be distant. Quite the opposite; she looked very, very interested. And yet, Andy wasn't so sure that she really liked her.

"I guess you're seeing someone," Elaine said. "If it weren't for that, I'd have to whisk you away here and now."

"Do you actually say things like that to people?"

Yes. Elaine was the kind of person who actually did say things like that to people. Andy wouldn't have thought that she was Elaine's type. What was she? Just a bookworm after all, and Elaine was so successful and confident, but the woman just didn't stop smiling at her. Then she talked about the pieces Andy had sent to her, of which she had read a few, and Andy was flattered by the compliments.

"So are you seeing anyone?" Elaine insisted. "You never really answered when I asked you before and you can't blame me for asking, can you?"

Andy told herself again that it wasn't over with Miranda. Or maybe it was? Was she just being pigheaded and stupid? If Miranda didn't say that she wanted her, how could Andy believe that she did?

"I am," Andy began, "or…I mean, I was… Like I told you before, it's complicated, because the woman I've been seeing, she's…"

"Oh, I get it," Elaine said and Andy's heart almost stopped before she went on, "you've been seeing a married woman, haven't you? An older, supposedly straight woman with a husband?"

Andy nodded insecurely. She could admit that much, couldn't she?

"Don't worry." Elaine laughed. "It happens to the best of us. But you know, being with a married woman won't do you any good in the long run. You know that, don't you?"

She had tried to kiss Miranda the night before when she dropped off the Book but Miranda didn't let her.

"Yes, maybe I do," she replied.

"Good," Elaine grinned, "Now that that's settled, tell me, are you coming to Paris? I'm profiling Gaultier for the _Interview_ and making my Paris plans, I found myself wondering if you were going to be there. I'm staying in a fantastic little hotel in the seventh…"

"I'm sorry, I'll be too busy working…"

"Oh, come on, I'm sure you'll be free to have dinner with me at least one night."

Andy had never been to Paris and she would have loved to explore the city guided by Miranda. But if that wasn't going to happen, why not spend an evening with someone who obviously liked her?

"Yeah," she said, "maybe. I don't know, we'll see."

Paris was nice. Or at least she thought so, judging from what she could see from the hotel windows and from the car. That wasn't much. A glimpse of the Eiffel tower, the sound of French voices… Paris was Fashion Week. It was work. It was following Miranda doing whatever Miranda wanted, just like always.

_It doesn't matter where in the world we are_, Andy said to herself, _life will always be like this. Isn't Paris supposed to be the city of love and romance? Can't Miranda feel it, or does she just not feel anything for me? _

Andy tried to ask her. She came to Miranda's room one evening and Miranda let her in but didn't want to talk.

"Tell me what you want from me," Andy insisted, "what is this game we're playing?"

Miranda's eyes were red and tired, almost as if she had been crying, and she wrapped her grey robe tighter around her body.

"There is no game," she said. "Andrea, I really don't want to talk about this. It's as simple as that. I have a lot of important things on my mind, like the luncheon tomorrow. We need to rearrange the seating chart. When we're done, you can go. You're young, go out and enjoy the city."

"But," Andy said as she took out a pen and her notebook for the last minute changes Miranda wanted to do, "I've never been in Paris before. I'd much rather explore it with you."

"The point is," Miranda said as if she hadn't heard, "we really need to figure out where to place Donatella, because she's barely speaking to anyone."

Andy didn't say anything more.

Elaine called Andy when she had left Miranda, saying that Andy owed her for _Harry Potter_, so why not have dinner?

Yes, why not? Andy met Elaine at a beautiful restaurant with excellent food and a lot of really good wine. Elaine's eyes were warm and she was full of mischievous humour that Andy enjoyed, except when Elaine started talking about what a devilish boss her mother was.

To Elaine's astonishment Andy tried to defend Miranda, but they soon decided to agree to disagree and dropped the subject. After a few awkward moments, filled with quite a lot of that delicious red wine that just kept coming to their table, everything felt good again. Andy enjoyed the sweet giddy feeling that was spreading through her body, making it tingle. Was it the wine? Was it Elaine's eyes? Was it the cool night breeze, the magic of Paris?

"I never knew it was this beautiful," Andy said when they were walking through the city after dinner.

It was dark and garlands of light were wrapped around the trees and they were alone on the street. Andy took a swing around a street light, smiling, and then Elaine's lips met hers.

_She feels so different from Miranda_, Andy thought, _but the hunger is the same…_

She tried to pull away, there was a little voice in the back of her head that told her that she shouldn't give in. But then she gave in anyway, she stopped fighting the hunger – Elaine's, but also the hunger of her own heart, her wish to be wanted.

***

Andy woke up the next morning in an empty bed.

Had it been a good night? She wasn't sure. Yes, there had been excitement, there had been pleasure, but both of them had been too drunk. Andy blinked, her eyes still heavy with sleep, and realized that she had never been drunk with Miranda. One glass of wine at the most, but she used to be drunk on love and arousal and always wide awake, thoroughly enjoying every moment. The nights with Miranda were always good, it was the mornings and sometimes the evenings, too, that could be improved. That _should_ improve.

She tumbled out of bed, wondering what she was doing there, and as she was gathering her clothes that had been strewn across the room she knocked over a pile of stuff. Elaine's hotel room wasn't exactly tidy but Andy reached out instinctively trying to pick up the things she had spread out and, in doing so, saw a cardboard divider with a _Runway_ cover.

That was strange… more than strange. It smelled of something suspiciously deceitful and Andy felt something cold run down her spine.

Elaine chose that moment to walk out of the shower, smiling.

"What the hell is this?" Andy waved the cover in Elaine's direction, desperately hoping for an innocent and believable explanation.

Elaine looked at her as if she was surprised to hear such a stupid question.

"What does it look like? It's a mock-up of what American _Runway_ will look like when Jacqueline Follet is the new editor-in-chief."

Andy stared at her in disbelief. Elaine sounded like it was the most natural thing in the world, as if _Runway_ could get a new editor-in-chief just like the trees got new leaves in the spring.

"They're replacing Miranda?"

That was what it seemed like but Andy had to ask anyway, just in case it was some kind of bad joke.

"Yeah." Elaine looked like she couldn't be more pleased with herself. "And Jacqueline's bringing me in to run all the editorial content."

Andy felt her thoughts begin to chase each other and then stand still. Her mind went blank when she tried to get a hold on them. Elaine had a better view than what she had in her room. Through the windows she could see the Eiffel tower. In front of her she could see Elaine, half naked, still wet from the shower and wrapped in a towel.

Andy could only stare at her, wondering how on earth it had happened that she had let herself be seduced by two women of the same family, two women who didn't even like each other but who, apparently, both liked her.

Yes, because Miranda had brought her and not Emily to Paris. Surely that must mean something? Once again Andy asked herself what she was doing so far away from Miranda.

"You're really surprised?" Elaine seemed surprised by Andy's empty stare. "Jacqueline is a lot younger than Miranda, she has a fresher take on things. And she does the same thing for a lot less money and Irv's a businessman, you know."

"He can't do that to her," Andy said, finding her voice again, she just wished she could use it to tell Irv Ravitz what she thought of him, rather than Elaine.

"It's done," Elaine insisted as if she was talking to an unreasonable child. "Andy, it's done. Baby, it's done."

"I'm not your baby," Andy hissed, "but Miranda is your mother, how can you let them do this to her? You know what _Runway_ means to her!"

Elaine dropped her towel and began to get dressed, without looking at Andy, as if she thought the discussion was ended, as if she didn't even think she had to explain herself.

Andy didn't leave. She wanted an answer. She could take uncomfortable silences, but could Elaine?

"Miranda doesn't give a shit about me," Elaine said after a while, "so why should I care about her?"

_Is that the best excuse you can think of?_ Andy didn't say it out loud, but she couldn't believe that a woman could do such a thing to her own mother.

"I'm sure that's not true," Andy tried, "I'm sure she cares about you. She's your mother."

"I don't have a mother," Elaine snorted, "I have a dad, and that's all. Miranda sent money when I was younger and she came to see me once a year, or less, with the twins. You know, when I was their age, I used to ask her to let me come and stay with her but she only let me come twice – once when I was ten years old, that's when you and I met the first time in case you've forgotten, and once when the twins were babies. As far as I'm concerned she's their mother, not mine."

Andy had to admit that she could see Elaine's point, in a way. If her own mother had more or less walked out on her when she was little, wouldn't she be bitter, too? Quite possible that she would. But would she really seek revenge – because that was what it looked like to her – instead of trying to reconcile, when they were both adults and successful professionals? Andy knew well enough that Miranda wasn't easy but she did love the twins, she knew that. And if she was ready to give Miranda one more chance, why couldn't Elaine?

"I understand," Andy said, "and I'm sorry… but that doesn't give you the right to do this to her. I won't let you!"

"Why do you care anyway?" Elaine sniffed, obviously thinking that Andy was ridiculous. "No one's that loyal to their boss, especially when she's such a dragon. Miranda doesn't care about anybody and nobody cares about her, her little brats excepted…"

"That's not true, Miranda's not a dragon, she's an amazing and admirable woman and she's the woman I…"

Andy could have bitten her tongue off when she realized that she was about to say too much, but it was too late.

Elaine's eyes went wide; disbelief and horror fought for dominance in her face. Andy's face was apparently too readable.

"Oh my god, you're fucking her. She's the one you're 'sort of seeing'… That's why you care so much."

Indeed, that was why Andy cared. If by 'fucking' Elaine meant 'madly in love with.'

"Elaine, let me explain…"

Elaine stared at her, shocked.

"You're fucking my mother! That's insane."

_Is it really?_ Andy asked herself. She had thought about the age difference in the beginning, when she still thought of Miranda as 'Mrs. Priestly,' her parents' friend's wife, but then she stopped, for a long time, thinking at all about the fact that she was with someone so much older.

That is, until Elaine showed up, in both her conversations with Miranda _and_ with her parents, and then in person.

"I thought you said she's not a mother to you."

"That's not the point!"

The roles were suddenly reversed. It was no longer Andy who accused Elaine of betrayal but the other way around. Of course she could understand Elaine's reaction and she felt that she had made the biggest mistake of her life by coming to her hotel room the previous night.

On the other hand, if she hadn't done it she wouldn't have known about the plan Elaine was a part of and now that she knew about it she could warn Miranda…

"This was a mistake," she said, "I'm leaving now."

***

Andy tried and tried to talk to Miranda but the editor was too busy to talk to her assistant, or even look at her. The big place full of golden decorations and flowers everywhere – but no freesias – began to feel like a nightmare labyrinth.

'Baby, it's done,' Elaine had said, but Andy thought that if she could tell Miranda at once, the situation could be fixed. She knocked on Miranda's door, knocked again and again. As if she were in a fever induced nightmare, Miranda didn't appear to hear a word she said, just looked at her as if she were insane, trying to interrupt her important meeting.

Then, at the luncheon, Miranda went up to the stage and gave her speech. It was only then that Andy realized that the reason why Miranda didn't care about the warnings was because they were unnecessary. Miranda already knew, she had fixed it on her own, and Jacqueline Follet was no longer threatening her position.

_Even this_, Andy thought when they sat in the car together when it was over, _even this evil scheme could she handle and avoid. If she can do everything on her own, what does she need me for at all? _

They sat in silence in the car; they didn't look at each other. When the silence was about to become unbearable, Miranda finally spoke:

"You thought I didn't know."

It wasn't a question. Her tone of voice was hard to decipher but Andy had learned to read her. Wasn't there a small smile on Miranda's face?

"Yes," she said, "but you seemed to be well prepared…I only happened to find out because…your daughter…"

Andy didn't know what to think of the whole thing, and Miranda's voice didn't reveal any emotions beyond resignation as she said:

"Well, it doesn't come as a surprise for me that Elaine doesn't have any warmer feelings towards me and why should she have?"

She paused, and there was a spark of warmth in her voice, "But I was rather impressed by how intently you tried to warn me."

"Why shouldn't I have? Miranda, you know, you _must_ know that I would do anything for you because I…"

Their eyes met and Andy was going to say the words for the first time when Miranda's cell phone rang. Andy hesitated as if the signal was the presence of someone who could but shouldn't hear her and Miranda's hand went to the phone to pick it up and answer.

"Hello Elaine," she said and Andy's hand that was moving towards Miranda's leg to caress the words she didn't speak froze halfway when she heard what Miranda said.

"Is _who_ with me? ... And who, if I may ask, might your 'girlfriend' be? I don't have time to… Oh. I see. That explains how she knew what you were up to. Yes, she's here."

Miranda lowered the phone and handed it to Andy without looking at her.

"Your _girlfriend_ wants to talk to you."

Andy took the phone and disconnected the call.

"No, Miranda, she's not my girlfriend, you are! That is, if you want to be. Sometimes I don't think so. But you were the one who seduced _me_…"

"I did," Miranda nodded, "because it amused me to sleep with you and you seemed to think so, too. But clearly you prefer a younger edition."

"No, Miranda!" Andy was horrified, and suddenly Miranda's behaviour made sense to her. And at the same time, it did not make any sense at all. "No, that's not what I want. Look, it's not what you think, I can explain."

"Andrea," Miranda said as coldly as only she could say things, "the reasons behind your betrayal don't interest me. Did I not tell you to stay away from Elaine?"

_Wow_, Andy thought, _what a mess I've made! But it's her fault, too. And if she's hurt, for real, that means that she cares and that means that we may actually have a chance…_

"You did," Andy agreed, "but it was kind of hard as she kept showing up and doing me favors, and your husband didn't make it any easier by telling my parents that I had to go out with her. What was I supposed to say? 'No, I can't, I'm already fucking her mother'…"

"Andrea, be quiet. I'm not interested in your petty excuses."

"But Miranda," Andy could no longer stop the tears from flooding, "if only you hadn't – I don't _care_ about her. If you just let me tell you…"

"Did I not make myself clear?" Miranda cut her off with her voice of steel. "You don't have anything further to say that is of interest to me. Get out."

Right then, the car stopped.

"Miranda, please!"

"That's all."

Andy knew that no one could argue with Miranda after her 'that's all,' and suddenly that seemed ridiculous to her. What gave Miranda the right to end every discussion like that? But it _was_ Miranda's right, according to everybody who knew her, and although Andy understood that Miranda was shocked and hurt, she was angry, and she opened the car door.

"Fine," she said, "_that's all_, then, Miranda!"

She slammed the door behind her and started walking away. Miranda went out of the car, too, but not to follow Andy. She didn't look back; she was met and greeted by journalists and other people who would no doubt be thrilled to witness a lovers' fight, but no such luck. Andy and Miranda went their separate ways in Paris without creating any headlines.

Not until then did Andy notice that she still held Miranda's cell phone in her hand. It started ringing, and Andy thought that it was probably Elaine and Elaine was the last person on the face of the earth she wanted to talk to. Without thinking any further, she threw the cell in a fountain.

Doing that made her feel a little better, and she smiled. But only until she started crying, and then she thought that she was never going to be able to stop.

***

Andy had made a fool of herself in Paris by walking away; everybody said so, even if they had no idea why she had done it. Everybody but Miranda said so, because she didn't even speak to Andy anymore. And Andy knew it, too, but there was nothing she could do. How did it all happen so quickly?

She only wanted to help Miranda, because she cared about her, and by doing so perhaps proving herself worthy of the other woman's love. She never meant to sleep with Elaine, it just happened, but Miranda Priestly was not a woman who could tolerate that anything at all 'just happened,' even if – or perhaps because – Elaine and her first marriage had just 'happened' to her…

This was different, she would say, and sure, she was right. But Andy wouldn't have done it if she had believed that Miranda really cared about her or her feelings. Hadn't she, in fact, even said that she didn't care? Maybe not in so many words, but that was exactly the point – if Miranda never said what she wanted, how was Andy supposed to know? Knowing her every wish as an assistant was one thing, but knowing as a lover was different.

_Miranda_, Andy said repeatedly to herself, _is so_ stupid _for not understanding any of this. _

But the more Andy thought about it, the more she realized that she had been equally stupid.

She already knew that Miranda wasn't really a goddess or the Queen of the Universe. She knew that Miranda was a woman of flesh and blood with a beating heart full of emotions, just like any other woman. She knew it. She just hadn't thought it through properly.

Not until it seemed to be too late did it all fall into place, and she could see some logic in everything Miranda had said and done ever since Elaine Robinson first became an issue between them.

Miranda was an incredibly beautiful woman and amazing in every way, but her own daughter was also beautiful and successful, and a lesbian, and she was Andy's age.

Did Miranda look into her mirror sometimes at night not seeing her own stunning reflection in it, but Elaine's brown eyes?

Youth and beauty always wins, no matter how sexy and seductive the older woman thinks she is. In the end, her young lover always leaves her, leaving her nothing but old, bitter and lonely…at least, that's what all the stories seem to say.

Miranda, Andy finally understood, had not been able to trust her own power over Andy's heart and that's why she hadn't tried hard enough; her way of fighting what she believed was unavoidable had been the wrong way. By harsh words, commands instead of explanations, silence instead of the questions she was afraid to ask, she had acted her part only too well, making Elaine the princess and herself the dragon.

So, eventually, Andy had it all figured out. The only question was what she was going to do about it.

She didn't know. There was no way back now, the doors of _Runway_ were going to remain as closed as Miranda's stubborn heart had seemed to be. Miranda didn't return any of her calls, just like Andy didn't return Elaine's calls and they soon stopped coming.

Then she thought that maybe ignoring Elaine was the wrong approach. She had been a fool not to resist Elaine's seduction, yes, but she could also see that she had treated Elaine badly too by not being honest with her

She walked around in her parents' house, brooding day out and day in until they finally lost their patience and told her that she had to do something with her life.

"Yes," she agreed, only listening to half of the things they said, "I can't just sit here and wait. And I'll never make her understand unless I do something radical. I'm going to ask her to marry me."

Her parents choked on their morning coffee.

"What?" Her mother stared at her in disbelief. "Who are you going to propose to?"

Andy realised that she had said too much but it was too late to hold anything back now. If she succeeded in winning Miranda back they were going to find out anyway. If not, well, she was desperate.

"I'm talking about Miranda Priestly," she said, "I'm going to marry her."

"Ha ha," her dad said, "very funny. We already guessed that you were seeing someone, so stop joking and tell us who your secret girlfriend is."

Andy smiled. She liked the ease with which her father took the word 'girlfriend' in his mouth when he looked at her. To say 'wife' wasn't going to be a problem.

"I told you," she said, "Miranda."

Silence in the kitchen as if she had dropped a sound-killing bomb.

"Sweetheart," her mom finally said, hesitatingly, "don't you think you're a little too late for that? I mean, Miranda is… an admirable woman and all that, I guess I can see why a young girl would have a crush on her but she is already married, you know…"

Andy felt sorry for her mother who only wanted to protect her but who knew better than her what Miranda's marriage really was like?

But when Andy had explained the whole thing to them, carefully excluding some delicate details, her father dropped a bomb of his own.

"I'm sorry, Andy. I truly am sorry to hear this. Sweetheart, whatever it is that has been going on with you and Miranda, it's over now. She is Stephen's wife. I know that their marriage have been shaky for quite a while but I also happen to know that they are going to try again."

Andy felt the whole room spin around her and she had to hold on to the kitchen table for support. She refused to believe what she heard at first but her father and Stephen were partners and apparently they talked about more than business. About things like 'second honeymoons' with their wives, for example. When the information began to sink in Andy was grateful for the information.

She knew what she had to do now. She had to act quickly. And she didn't see it as a problem, she hadn't been working as Miranda's assistant for so long for nothing. Andy had learned to move quickly from one place to another. Miranda Priestly's assistant was not allowed to be late, to fail. Miranda Priestly's lover had to use those skills.

***

Andy couldn't really remember afterwards how she got to the airport so quickly but she did it. She did not, however, get there quickly enough to catch Miranda before she passed through the first passport control.

Stephen was by her side.

"Miranda!" Andy shouted but the only ones who turned their heads around were the twins, who were standing on each side of a blonde woman Andy knew only too well. So for some reason she had been restored to favor and was now acting, as it seemed, babysitter to her little sisters.

Elaine turned around, slowly. Her eyes were even colder than what Miranda's could be but the impersonation was ruined by a triumphant little grin on her face – Miranda wouldn't display her feelings so openly – as if she wanted to say: 'You're too late, you can't have her!'

Miranda was now on the other side of the roped-off area and Andy was soon going to loose sight of her.

"Miranda!" she shouted as she pushed her way through the crowd, past Elaine and the twins.

Andy repeated the name a third time. Both Miranda and Stephen turned around to look at her, the shouting lunatic who was probably going to be carried away by a security guard any minute now – at least that was the message in Stephen's eyes when he met her gaze for just a second before he grabbed his wife by the elbow and made her turn around again.

"Miranda!" Andy cried desperately, as loud as she could. She knew that Miranda could hear her, that wasn't the problem – but could she shout loud enough to get a reaction, the reaction she wanted? She knew of course that Miranda hated shouting but, in Andy's mind, an extreme situation called for extreme measures.

"Miranda!"

Andy was going to loose her voice if she continued but she was beyond caring. Miranda didn't move. Stephen tried to make her move but she didn't. Miranda turned around.

Miranda's eyes met hers and Andy could only whisper her name.

_This is it_, Andy thought, _it's now or never…_

When Stephen tried to drag her along and disappear behind the corner, Miranda shook off his hand and she took one step closer to Andy. And then one more.

"Miranda…"

It wasn't a cry of desperation, it was a call of love, could she hear it? Did she understand it?

Miranda began moving in the opposite direction of all the other travellers. She walked back through the line, past the roped-off area and through the crowd of people who were there to see people off.

"Mother!" Elaine hissed, but Elaine's mother didn't appear to see any of her daughters. She took one more step and then she was in Andy's arms.

"Andrea, I…" she began, but Andy interrupted her.

"Stephen is coming after you."

Stephen's first reaction had been to witness the scene silently and without moving but as soon as Miranda reached Andy he, too, began moving through the people who were mumbling and whispering quite loudly, looking nervous, confused or amused.

Their eyes met, locked, and as if with one single shared thought they joined hands and began running to the nearest entrance.

Later in life, Andy would smile affectionately at the memory of Miranda running like that but while it happened she didn't see anything remarkable about it, even though she should have known that those Prada heels weren't made for running.

The only thought that was in her head was that Miranda was by her side with her hand in hers, following her as if it was natural that Andy took the lead for once.

When they were out, Miranda began looking for Roy, who was going to drive Elaine and the girls home, but Andy pulled her impatiently in another direction in the parking lot, towards the buses.

There was one now, just about to leave.

"Where does it go?" Miranda asked.

Andy grinned,

"Does it really matter now?"

Miranda smiled – Andy didn't remember ever having seen anything more beautiful than that smile – and shook her head, and they entered the bus.

When they were seated in the back of the vehicle, so flushed and giggling so wildly that they attracted curious looks from the other passengers, they shared a wide, happy smile until Miranda said:

"Andrea, darling, we really need to talk."

Andy grinned even wider.

"I think that's the most beautiful thing you've ever said to me. You know that, right?"

Miranda shrugged her shoulders.

"I get your point… Like I said, we really need to. Don't you agree?"

"Yes!" Andy said loudly, "yes, yes!"

Then she remembered that she was the one who was going to ask a question answered by that word. Not that there was such a hurry. The fact that Miranda acknowledged their need to talk was important enough, and a huge step forward.

"Does this mean that you have forgiven me," she asked, "that you trust me now, that we can start over, like a real couple this time?"

"Yes, Andrea." Again, such a wonderful smile. "Yes, I believe that is what this means."

They kissed. The bus moved, unaware of everything they left behind, towards the future.


End file.
